


dream tried to swim in lava.

by zephyrrwind



Series: zephyr’s dream smp verse [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Harm, Suicide, but he can’t die he only respawns.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephyrrwind/pseuds/zephyrrwind
Summary: was actually planning on writing this before tommys stream today but that didnt happen and now this is going a diiferent route :)
Series: zephyr’s dream smp verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2110668
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	dream tried to swim in lava.

**Author's Note:**

> was actually planning on writing this before tommys stream today but that didnt happen and now this is going a diiferent route :)

Dream had long lost track of time, his precious clock helped but didn’t help him know what day it was and he barely paid it any mind now that he never knew either way. 

The demon that had plagued his mind was gone, deciding to cower somewhere else, away from the body it had spent months in to instead reside somewhere it would have to watch the boy hurt himself and suffer. 

Not that dream could complain, the demon was horrible.

No one knew of the demon he’d been stuck with or “dreamon” as tubbo and fundy had called it so long ago, _how long has it been, I can’t remember._

Dream wasn’t stupid, he knew what would happen as he spends more time in this prison, his mind would eventually break and he could do nothing to combat it.

Tommy had visited him, only to say things that had hurt but tommy would never know that. He had been assigned novels to write, he doubted he would finish them. 

Dream knew that no one would believe him if he were to say why he did what he did. He had wanted a big happy family, the demon said it would give him that, saying that he had to become the villain so everyone would come together to fight him. _Why did he believe it._

Dream wondered how long it had been, he had no idea if it had been a few days or a few months. He knew tommy would be coming a few days after he was here a little (?) while ago. He wondered if he’ll come.

Dream had found himself doing anything to distract himself, he had long stretched out his writing ability and his hand was too sore to hold even a pen now.

He would spin his clock, play in the water, anything really. He would ‘swim’ in the lava that kept him here, swimming was fun.

Dream found himself going toward the lava, yearning for the heat it gave off. 

**Dream tried to swim in lava.**

(Some had laughed it off, others had been slightly concerned at the reappearance of the familiar message that had been appearing frequently.) 

It was fun for dream. _Fun fun fun fun funfunfunfu **nfunfunfun-**_

**Dream tried to swim in lava.**

(Never would he know of the ‘???’s from some and the ‘is he trying to kill himself..?’ From someone we will never know.)

**Dream tried to swim in lava.**

**Dream tried to swim in lava.**

**Dream tried to swim in lava.**

**Ḓ̶͓̟̖̠̖͓̯͇͙̮͑͒̎͂ȓ̷͔͍̊̕ę̶̯͕͓͍͋ͅä̷̦͎́̋̉͛̔̐̆͊́̕͠m̸̡̪͈͚͉̗̬̙̞͑̒̆̆̐̄͒̀̾̓͊͆̕͝ ̴̨̛̹̰͙̘̪͎̖̺̜̓͌͑͑̃͘͝ẗ̶̺̖̰͔́̀͗r̶̻͍͙̤̝̿̐̿̂̀̐̌͐͐͠͝í̴̳͕͔͌̇͑͑̕͝͝e̵̢̪̠̱͕̲̖͊͜d̴͓͎͈̿̑ ̸̘̻͚̩̼͔̙͛t̴͖̪̯͈͚̦̝̤̪̖͘͜o̶̡̢̡̗̖̰͇̠̐̌͑̆̔̈́̀̏̄͗̔̅͋͝ ̷͎̽̍͗́̐̍̽̔s̵̨̝͇̙̪̩̙̝͖̈́̎̈́͑̅̓͌̑̆͑̿͘̕̚͠w̸̢̢̛̭̦̥̘͓̟͊̚͝ī̶̢͇̥̌̅̓̈̀̃́̈͆̉̃̊̀̈m̶̢̧͚̩̣̗͈̣̞̼͇̹̍̾ ̸̨̹̜̠͎͙̲͉͓̣̟́̄̈́̔̈́̎͛͘̚̚͝i̸̡̛̯̳̊͂̇͐̀͐̉̽̑́̊̌͂͘͜ņ̶̩̖̬̗̝͓̙̝̞̱̿̾̃̂ ̸̧̧͓̮̻͙̗͔͖̮͇̣̿̕͜l̵̰̜̱̬̟̬̇̋͋̋̎͊̀̃͛̓͑͌͜͝͝à̶̟́̀̾́͒͂͂v̵͍͙̝̫͈͌͝ä̷͕́͜.̴̛̰̱͚̭̫̬͒͂͛̃͐̈́́̓̈́̔͑̓̎̚  
  
**

D̷̛͈̮̳̖̲̼͖͕̺̥̜̣̪̭̩̺͌͐͒̌̅̄͂̋̊͐̎̅͑̿͒̈̄̋͑̚̚͠͝r̶̢̨̨̨̺̱͖͇̘̗̺͓̯̘͎̤͖͓̤̥̖͙̟̙̭̭̯̼͇̳̯͖̗͍͇͖̻̹̙͙̖̻̱̪̪͎͍̝̲͖̦͔̝̪̬͎͉̔̐͑͐̿̍̀̂̎̊̽̃̅͒̓̈́͊̋́͋̓̅́̾͐́̆̎́̋̚̚̕͘͜͜ͅe̴̡̢̡̛̻̳̻̺̲͈̭͇͕̜̩̪̬̥͇͖͎̞̗͚͕̬̘͚̳̯̤̻̹̤̺̣̝̳̹̲̭̺͙̤̼̠͚͕̺̜̘͙̖̞̜͇͈̫̟̳̝̼͈̲͚̭̗̝̙̫͉̺̥̭̘̰͐̍̾̾͐̈́̑̀̄̄̀̇͌̏̓͆̾̃͛͒̐͒̄͑́̑͗̅̂̇̌̽̒̆̄͒͂̌̌͛̾̊̓̌͊̃̃̍͗̚̚͘͜͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅa̴̧̢̡̧̨̻̰͉̝̙͖̬͍̳͎͕̟̰̣͔̹̤̻͓̹͇̤͓͚̞̠̫͙̖̬̪͉̬̞̣̻̰̬̱̼͋̾͋̈́̊̾͆̈̾͛̀̍̉̽͂̊͗́̂̏̉͒̅̄͌̉̾̊͂͐͊͗̂̔̾́̈́̍̂́̌̎̚͘̕̚͝͝͝ͅͅm̷̢̢̡̡̧̧̡̢̮̩̭̤̠̝̯̲͓͚͕̹̦̮͍̯̦͓̱̭̦̠̭̝̪̤̣̼̙̬͙̰͉͇̖̠̱̪͉̺͇̲̞̞͕̝̬͈̩͖̱̱̩̮̖̖̺͇̒͜͜͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅ ̶̡̨̨̛̻͓͓̺̝̗͙̳̦̻̤̬̤̦͙̟̳͈̹͈̻̠͚͔̞̭̟͉̼͔̉̈̉́̾̅͜͝t̵̨̡̨̡̧̙͈̥͚̝̘̭̖͎͙͈̝͖͍̩̱̖̤̞͚͈̠̯̹͚̩͉̭̬̖͎̲̻̬͔͈͚̦̘̭͔͈̫̮̪̣̱̟̗͖̱͉̝͖̅͜ṟ̷̛̛͍͐̏̇̊͆͐̉̀͂́͆̽̍̈́͊̉̏̆̌́̊̂̾͑̀̀̅͂̊̉͊̂̑̌́̾́̎̍̾̿̉͌͌̈́͂̅̏̃̒̍͐͋̔̃͊̿̍͑̋̕͘͘͘̕̕͠͝͝͠i̶̧̨̧̧̛̛̳̼̻͚͓͎͇̖͈̜̩̞̦̭̩̫̯͈̥̘̣̭̫͎̞̫̜͕͓̰̦̘̤̗̦̻̞̜̪̤͍̬͙͉̻̝̦̘͍̮̤̹̮̗̱̩͓̰͈͍͂̅́͆̿́͊͑̔͒̾̾͂̂͋̚̚͜͜͜͝ͅȩ̸̨̨̢͎͔͎̺͓͔̥̯̣̤͈̝̪̰̱̯͚̣̥̣͕̖͙͇̳͕̫͙͚̺̲͚̼̓́̃͌̉̕ͅͅḑ̸̡̢̨̨̨̡̮̯̳̯̜̤̪͓̫̳͇͚͓̤̟̪̗͚̤͙̟̹̪͍̬̜̫̜̪̬̭̱̹̥̲̞̟̲̯͕̜̥̘̤̣̞͎̻̊̑̐̄̅́́͆̏̈́̅̋̔͂͆̽͜ ̴̧̧̛̛̛̰̹͓̗̥̦̰̝̼̗͇̞̼̗̰͚̞̲͎͈͖͙̪̞̱̙̞̞̪͉̳̘̪̤̖̥̥͚̫̝̟̞͉͉̹̙͓̟̦͍͇̳̹͇͛̂̏̊̏̎́͌̓̌̅̈́̊͌̉͐̈́̊͒̒̀̂̑̌̂̏̉͋̑̀̏̅͑̇̒̆͆̈̐̃̏́̋̎͆̈́́̆͋́͐͐͗̏̾̋͗̍̽̕͘̕̕͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅt̷̢̡̨̢̡̻͍̱̙͉͈̠̺̘̩̗̮̳͇̼̲̞̣̙̣̫̺̪̜̥̜͙̳͖͓̤̞͙͇̫͎̝̣͖̫̪͍̣̼̬̤̗̻̖̝̯̥̫͚̣͖̦̬̣̮͈̀̑̋̌̓̓̋̄̈́̓̊̊͜͜ͅͅͅǫ̸̧̪̠̞͚̟̖̗͔̻̦̯̭͙̲̻̫͎̖̯̼̫̫̱̣͔̆̒̋͒̀̎̎̍͜͜ͅͅͅ ̶̡̢̢̧̤͔̹̤̞̞̬̞͎̥̜͇͈̙̺̰̮̲̭͙̲̬̘̥̝̹̗͠ͅṡ̴̡̢̧̛̛̛̞̱̠͔͎̯̳̠͖̺͓̭̭̯͔̺̹̥̯͚̣̰͎̺̙̬͓̖͈̙̤̩̯̠̻̰̘̻͖̠̖̖̠̹͔̝̭̳̺͚͔͓̱̬͓͈̘̲̺͖̹͍̖̪͛̈́̑̈́̉̿́̌̓͛̔͑̽͛͗͆̈́̋͛́̔̆̋̒̐̓̅͗́́̉̔͆͑̒͋̀͂͊̌́̄̆͊͊̈́̀̿̎͋̐̽̿͊̊͆̽̆̎͆̿͌͛͑̕͘̕̚̕̕͜͜͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅẘ̶̧̢̨̧̧̡̛͎̻̳͎̰͈͕̪̙̺̲̳̞̪͖̘̫̣͙̖̳̟͎̭͇̤̲̟̜͈̗̦͙̙͉̠̬̩̫̜̃̀̔͒̒̊̔̑̈͂̏́̾̏̐̈́̈̿͠ͅͅį̸̢̧̡̡̛͈͓̰̱̱̻̪̻͉̤̬̰͓̠̦̪̱̤̜͔͓͍̰̘̝̯̮̹̲̭̬̻͎̼̣͖͍̭̤̜̤̙̱̬͍̦̠̠̩͉̠̹̥̬͖̗̠͍̞̗͉̜̯̦͓͔͓͇̬̱͈͚̹̭̯́̓̽͒̚͜͜͜ͅͅm̵̧̡̧̧̨̧͚͖͙̺̟͕̹̖͎̬͓͕̰͇̘̝̝̲͎̬̠̟̺͓̫̱͕̦̻̞̙͚̮̖̗͎̞̭̯͈̯͍͚̮̫̘͆̌̅̇̃͐̀̀̍̀̕̕͜͝͝ͅ ̵̛̙͔̳̻̃͆̔̃̊͋̾̇̋̈̃͛͋̔̀̂̔̎̍̀͊̏̌̈́̉͒̉͑͐̎́̚͘̕͘͠͝͝i̷̛͖͔͇̳͇̬̣̫̖̲̣̤̦̩͍̹̪̐͗͗̆̎͗̈̓͛̽̿͊͗̌̈́̏̈́̓̾̊̆́̇͌̏͐̄̎͊̆̅̀̾̐̾̃̈́̌̈͊̿͊̃̃͐͒̿̑̓͋͗̃̍̈́̀͋̑̃̓͂̑́͛̍̽͛̽͋̎͐͑̅͘͘͝͠͠͝ņ̸̡̨̧͕̬̤̯̹̳͍̳͇̤͍̭̞͈̳͉͍̙͚͎̳̦̠̥͖̗̱̥̭͕̥̤̬͇̯̣͚̦̘̙̞̣̦̮̝̘̘̣̜͓̣̮̤͉̦̖̝̼͈̼̦̱̮͙̬͙̅̆̿͜ͅͅͅͅ ̸̨̮̝̮̗̮̳̠͖͔̺̦̟̩͎͇͇̙͈̤͎̠̲͉͎̣̙͂͊̄͗̽̆́͐̓͐̓͂͊̋̇̈́̅̄͊̑̓̀̅͒́̍͋͂͘̚͘̕͜͠ļ̸̧̛̛͕̲̞̲̜͔̲̲͍̝̜̍͌̉̂̋̏͒͐̑͐̒̃͊̋̎̌̓̀͗̎̉͒͒͊̄̾̌́̋̀͌̎̿͗̔̾͒̿͛̾̾̃̈̍͌͗͑̾̈́̌̂͑͑͐͘͘̚̕̚͝͝͝a̷̢̖̲̥̳̎̍̂̂̏̃͋̀͑́̏͑̎̔̆͌́̂̑̐̓̏͗͛̇̊́̑̈̃̓͛̀̄̒̀̑̄͌̈̽͆̐̄̽̉̓̄͘̚̚͘̕̕͜͠͠͝͝͝v̵̢̛̖̪͎̞͇̱̘̹̜͍̩̜̗̲̘̱̤̣͇̘̠͎̺̟͈̻̹̭̆̿͛̓̈̈́̀̏́̓͛̒̌̈̈́̾̾̑̌̃̓̆̌̅̎́̀͂́̀̑̒̏͛̐̑͒̋̕̚̚͘͘͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅa̷̡̧̢̡̡̨̧̨̤̜̫̘͓̝͉̹̟̼͕̫̺̼̺̠͉̻̲̺̹̩̬͓͓̪̜̺̩͓̞͖͇̹̬̖̭̹͉͉̠̲̦̦̻̤͓̳̺̩͔͖͇̱̎͑̔̄̏̎̽͒̾̈̍̿̇̎́͛̄̑̈́̔̈́͆̽̈͑̚͘͝͝ͅͅ.̴̨̡̢̨̨̢̧̛̛̩̼̣̞͓̥͓̼͎̗͕̯̺̰̳̻͎͓͔͚̱̦̫͇̗͚͉͖̬̫̖̖̠͖͎̪͓͓̜̭̜͔̘͈͉̮̯̬̯̗̹͔̳̘͍͕̼̟͍̺̺̫̗̪͚̬̗̮̤͓͈̠̟̮̭͌̇̈́̿͊̋̄̀́̒͒̐̄̄̋͒̏̐̄̐̿̓̽̊̅̓͒̊̇̈́̓̈̃̑͗̀͒̄͊͒̊̀̉̌̂͂̾̐͌̋̈̃͋͑͌͆̀̽͗͗͌͗̾̑̋̏̒̉̃͌̃̕̚̚̕͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅ  
  


  
  


The words were starting to blur, the scorching on his back from the never ending lava lost it’s touch, soon he took up scratching at his arms with his pen and taking pieces of obsidian that fell off the wall and carving into his skin.

He was so tired.

so tired of the pain and unending urge to just die.

He missed everything, the soft purr of his cat, the murmur of his friends while he dozed on warm, sunny days. 

The self harm that had snuck it’s way into his life had become a comfort, a comfort he knew he shouldn’t lean into.   
  


But he did.


End file.
